


Two Bodies

by phalangine



Category: Daredevil (TV), The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: Canon Related, Developing Friendships, Developing Relationship, Drinking & Talking, Established Relationship, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-18
Updated: 2018-03-18
Packaged: 2019-04-04 08:02:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14015865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phalangine/pseuds/phalangine
Summary: Frank makes a surprise return. Foggy just wants to sleep.





	Two Bodies

**Author's Note:**

> i know i'm not the first person to write frank & foggy, but the more the merrier, right?

In hindsight, Foggy should have known this would happen. Maybe not this exact situation, but certainly the general order of things. Him, walking home alone while Matt plays superhero. A man who is decidedly not Matt coming out of the shadows to block his path. His face is impossible to make out beneath his hood, but Foggy doesn't need to see it to know this guy isn't here for a friendly chat.

_ Shit. _

“You can have my wallet,” Foggy says before the weapon inevitably gets pointed at him. “Just don't kill me, okay? I've been prepping for this case for ages, and if I die before I pummel this guy in court, I'll have unfinished business, and unfinished business is how you get ghosts. Angry ghosts. You don't want me to be an angry ghost, do you?”

He winces, wishing yet again that he weren't a nervous talker.

The man, who'd paused when Foggy started talking, starts walking closer again.

Foggy swallows hard and backpedals a few steps, his panic only growing by his attacker-to-be’s silence. “Look, man. I don't know what you want, and I can't give it to you if you don't tell me, you know?”

The voice that answers makes his blood run cold.

“I don't want your damn wallet.”

_ “Castle?” _ Foggy demands, voice rising. In response, the man tilts his head. The light from the street lamp illuminates one side of his face, which is more than enough to reveal features Foggy had thought he'd never see again, at least not in the flesh. “What are you doing in- Oh my God, you're here to kill me, aren't you? It's not my fault you got convicted! We did our best!”

Castle stops a second time, but he's close enough now that he could grab Foggy if he wanted.

He doesn't grab Foggy. Instead, he sighs and rubs at the back of his head. “I'm not here to kill you.”

That's good, but… “And Daredevil?”

“I don't care about Red.”

“And my partner, Matt-”

“I just told you I don't care about him,” Castle says flatly. Foggy glances around for potential witnesses, which makes Castle roll his eyes. “Can we do this somewhere else? I don't think either of us wants to be overheard.”

There are a number of ways Foggy could take that. He chooses to ignore them and focus on the part where Castle wants to get going. And unless he's got a secret hideout somewhere nearby- which, actually, isn't beyond the pale- he doesn't mind not staying secret, there's only one logical place to go.

“Do you, uh, know where I live?”

Castle doesn't reply. Foggy hears the implied  _ duh  _ anyway.

Foggy pretends the thought of a devoted murderer knowing where he lives doesn't make him want to start running and never stop. “Let’s go there, I guess. Unless you've got somewhere else in mind?”

He doesn't want to go somewhere else- or anywhere with Castle- and winces when he hears himself ask.

Not that Castle would care about any of that.

Castle shakes his head. “Your place is fine. Let’s go.”

He turns and starts walking away, Foggy instinctively hurrying to catch up, and just like that, Foggy finds himself walking to his apartment with Frank Castle. If he'd ever thought about it, he probably would have figured Castle would be the type to run ahead- or break into Foggy’s place and wait for Foggy to come to him- but the guy just falls into step with him, seemingly content to walk at a normal speed.

Foggy never got close to Castle like Karen did, but he got the distinct impression that Castle isn't the type to make social calls or put off what needs to be done. (Whether those things actually need to be done- and done the way he goes about doing them- is a separate argument, one Foggy isn't about to make.) What little Foggy did see left him with the feeling of a man made of stone. The sort of man who never shows fear- if he feels it at all, he simply swallows it down and uses it to push himself harder.

The man beside him now isn’t nearly as unshakable. There's a nervousness to Castle that has Foggy intrigued and horrified. This is a man who wasn't nervous about waging war on a city or getting the death penalty or going to prison. If he's in over his head, what the hell can Foggy do for him?

Whatever it is, Matt’s going to get pissy about Foggy walking home alone again. That's going to be fun.

Provided Castle doesn't kill Foggy first.

The silence and the twitchiness Castle’s radiating get to Foggy a few blocks from his apartment, and he blurts, “Does Karen know you're here?”

Castle doesn't look over at Foggy when he says, “I've seen her, yeah. Had a few drinks last night. Made sure she got to work okay this morning.”

If anyone else said that, Foggy would think they were a good friend. Coming from Castle, though...

“What is it with you vigilantes and stalking? We aren't all danger magnets, you know.” He isn't really expecting a reply; he's just airing a minor grievance.

To his surprise, Castle actually answers.

“When you know how fucked up people are, how easy it is to hurt people and get away with it, you take a step into a place you can't ever get back out of,” he says darkly. “Me and Red, we don't fit in here anymore. Sure, he's trying to, keeps talking about redemption and shit because that's how he reconciles what he is without admitting he's deeper in that place than good people go.”

He falls silent, but Foggy doesn't speak up, sensing there's more to this. When Castle resumes his monologue, his voice is softer than Foggy’s ever heard it.

“And the thing is- The thing is, people like us, who are up to our elbows in shitbags, we’re not good people. Red and me, we're fucked up people, too. Maybe we only go after scumbags, but scumbags don't keep to themselves. They have families. Friends. People who visit them in prison and miss them when they die. And knowing that we’re hurting them, knowing we're the source of nightmares for good people, only drives us deeper. We keep on like that, we start losing our way. There's no black and white anymore. No good, no bad. It's all gray, and intentions don’t mean shit.

“So we need people like you. Having somebody get up in your face and scream at you because they give a damn? Knowing there's somebody who knows what you are and what you do and still wants you around?” He shakes his head. “I never put much stock in all that before, but there's something to it, I guess. Reminds us why we’re doing what we do, keeps us from going too far into that place where it's all just blood.”

The way he says the last part makes Foggy think Castle’s been deeper than he is now. The thought of the Punisher being a middle place and not the extreme makes his blood run cold, and he quickly pushes it away.

If Castle is expecting a reply, he doesn't say so, which is good because Foggy doesn't have one.

He chews on the idea of Matt and Castle needing tethers the rest of the way to his apartment, though. Castle pulls his hood a little farther forward and dips his head as they go in, proving he isn't completely ridiculous by using the door like a normal person. Fortunately, they don't run into anyone on the way up, and Foggy is able to get them into his apartment without incident.

Once they're safely inside, Castle pulls his hood back from his face. He's got a faded black eye and a cut on his cheek. All in all, though, he looks better than he had last time Foggy saw him up close. 

Then again, he'd almost have to.

“Can I get you anything to drink?” Foggy asks out of habit. “Coffee? Tea? Something stronger?”

Castle hesitates before he says coffee.

Foggy can't be sure, but his gut says Castle was going to ask for liquor. God knows Foggy could go for some.

Once the coffee maker is going, he takes a seat on the couch and gestures for Castle- who's been looking through Foggy’s things and not bothering to be subtle about it- to take a chair. Which he does.

“So,” Foggy says after a long moment of silence, “if you don't want to kill me, what  _ do _ you want?”

He has an idea, but he'd rather not put them on a path they don't have to go down.

Castle narrows his eyes but says nothing, and Foggy  _ knows _ . He just knows this is going to be like talking to Matt when he's being difficult but with the added difficulty of not being able to use the emotional leverage Foggy has over Matt.

_ This could take hours, _ he thinks tiredly. Why can't he ever meet a vigilante who doesn't make things needlessly difficult?

Resisting the urge to sigh or throw his hands in the air, Foggy decides to say fuck it and rip the bandage off himself. Maybe he'll make an ass of himself, but a bullet to the head can't be worse than this.

Drawing a bracing breath, he says, “Let me guess. You're torn up about Karen.”

Castle’s mouth thins, his hands closing into fists on his knees, and if Foggy weren't so suddenly aware of his own mortality, he would laugh.

“I'll take that as a yes.”

“How did you know?” Castle asks, voice rough. Well, rougher.

“You, my man, are not subtle,” Foggy explains, emboldened by the lack of weapons pointed at him. “Neither is Karen. Even Matt figured it out, and he can't see the way you two look at each other.”

He can hear Karen’s heartbeat, though, and boy had he looked sour when he told Foggy about the way it changes when she's talking about Castle. It hadn't been jealousy- Foggy knows what that looks like on Matt- which had been a surprise. Matt had just disapproved. Foggy hadn't pointed out the hypocrisy in Matt critiquing Karen’s “dangerous choices in romance” but only because he'd been trying not to laugh at the idea of Matt actually trying to tell that to Karen.

Castle doesn't need to know about any of that, though.

Clearing his throat, Foggy says, “So, now that we've acknowledged the elephant in the room, can you tell me what was so urgent about this that you felt the need to escort me home?”

Other than the fact that  _ everything _ is urgent with vigilantes. They're all drama queens.

“I…” Frustration is pouring off Castle, and Foggy feels a pang of sympathy. The man is absolutely dangerous; he ought to be in a prison or a hospital somewhere, probably for the rest of his life. The fact that he's dangerous isn't entirely his fault, though. That specialist they brought in for the trial… Foggy doesn't think the guy was talking out of his ass about Castle’s mental state. The way he vacillates between one intense emotion and another, the way he acts like everything is a matter of life and death, the way he throws himself at things as if he doesn't know how to stop…

Even Matt doesn't push himself the way Castle does. He knows his war is unending. He knows he's fighting human nature more than he's fighting any particular kingpin, so he paces himself. He'll be no good to Hell’s Kitchen if he burns himself out.

Castle doesn't seem to get that. To hear Karen tell it, he goes all out against every baddie, thinking he's going to find peace by killing this person or that person, only to discover another threat standing behind them. Then he throws himself at that person, and the cycle continues.

Living like that, with a constant storm in your head, sounds like torture. If Foggy had to spend every waking minute in high gear, he'd probably go off the rails, too.

Yet it's no excuse.

Castle chose this war. He could have seen a doctor. He could have seen a therapist. He could have disappeared from New York and made a life for himself somewhere quiet and remote like Montana. But he didn't. He wanted blood, and that's exactly what he got.

Even so, watching Castle struggle like this makes Foggy think he might understand what made Karen’s heart go out to him. Just a little bit. Foggy can't forget those photos of Castle’s victims. But he can't say Castle is a mindless monster either. He's smart, and despite the carnage he's wrought, he's actually done a frighteningly good job of not letting regular people get caught in the middle.

That's the problem with monsters, Foggy supposes. They're never truly monsters. They’re human, just like everyone else.

The coffee maker lets out a beep to say it's finished, and Foggy gets up to fetch their drinks.

“You want anything in it?” he asks as he pours them each a cup.

“Black’s fine.”

Heading back to the couch, Foggy hands Castle one mug while keeping the other for himself. It isn't until he's sitting down again that he looks over and realizes which mug he gave Castle.

He tries not to let his smile show, but Castle’s eyes narrow at him a moment later.

“Something funny?”

Foggy shakes his head. “It's nothing. Just… I bought that mug to annoy Matt. It's got horns like the devil, see?”

Castle does look, and a second later, he huffs. Shaking his head, he leans back in the chair. “Karen only lets me use one mug,” he says, his expression wry. “It's this ugly thing with one of those ‘don't talk to me until I've had my coffee’ slogans on it. I'm pretty sure she bought it just because I said they're annoying.”

“That does sound like Karen.”

Nodding, Castle drops his eyes to his mug. “You're a lot like her.”

An idea Castle brought up earlier. Hopefully he isn't gearing up for a rehash of that. “How so?”

“You hold the fort.” Castle looks up at Foggy. “Red goes out every night looking for trouble, and every night, you hang back and wait to find out if he gets hurt or caught or killed. You don't get to go out there and keep him safe.” His brow furrows. “How do you do it? How- How do you stay here, knowing he's out there fucking with shitbag gangsters, and not lose your mind?”

It isn't a question Foggy was expecting, and maybe that's why he blurts, “You were a soldier. You never asked your wife?”

He winces, but Castle doesn't go off on him, just shakes his head. “Marine,” he corrects almost absently, tracing his finger over one of his mug’s horns. “My old lady, she didn't need me. We loved each other, sure, but she didn't need me like I needed her. I knew if I died, she'd be okay.”

“You don't think Karen would be?”

“I think she’s got more heart than is good for her.”

Taking a sip from his own mug, Foggy mulls that over. Castle isn't wrong about Karen; she’s got more heart than anyone Foggy knows, so much so that it gets her in trouble.

Case in point: Frank Castle.

When it comes down to it, though, Karen isn't the issue.

“I don't know what to tell you,” Foggy says slowly. “How do I not go insane, spending night after night imagining Matt dead in some alley after getting his head kicked in? I don't know. Maybe I already did, and it's just so subtle nobody’s noticed yet.” He shrugs. “As for Karen… If she didn't think you were worth it, she wouldn't keep you around. Which you already knew.”

Castle doesn't deny it, his nose crinkling as he sips from his mug.

Sitting together like this, Foggy can almost forget that Castle has a sickening body count they still haven't fully tallied. There's something painfully normal about giving relationship advice to him. It's something Foggy would do for any guy who asked.

“If you're here because you're looking for someone to tell you it's okay to be with her, I'm not sure I'm the right person to talk to.” At Castle’s sharp look, Foggy shrugs. “It's not okay. She's a good person with a bright future. Just being around you jeopardizes that. If the two of you did get involved romantically, you'd be putting a target on her. And not just from your enemies. Her career would be in danger. Her friendships, too. She'd never be able to be honest with the people around her.”

Castle nods, his expression something like relieved.

Foggy pauses. It's clear that Castle wanted to be talked down, and Foggy’s done that.

“Things aren't as simple as ‘okay’ and ‘not okay’, though,” he says anyway. “Life is complicated. You of all people should know that.”

Castle mulls that over for a bit before he tilts his head, leveling Foggy with a sharp look. “That what Red tells you when he comes crawling into bed with you?”

There's an edge to Castle’s voice, something twisted and unkind. Foggy instinctively bristles at it. “Excuse me?”

“Murdock.” The way Castle says it, Matt’s surname sounds like two words. His dark eyes are alight as he leans forward, at odds with the grim line of his lips, and for the first time tonight, Foggy finds himself face to face with the Punisher. “When he comes to you after a night of playing hero- When he's all bloody and beat up and stinking, does he tell you it’s okay because, hey, ‘Life is complicated’? Is that what he says to make you feel better?”

Hands balling into fists, Foggy grits, “It isn't.”

“So it's not good enough for you, but you think it would be for Karen.”

“That's not what I said.”

“Isn't it?” Castle presses.

Lifting his chin despite every instinct telling him to duck and run, Foggy says, “I think Karen understands that the heart wants what it wants. You said earlier that she knows all about you. She knows what she’s getting into with you. And if she's still letting you come around, the. I guess she's made her peace with it. So you can either accept that and trust her to make her own decisions or reject it and push her away because you think you know better. And for the record,” he adds, because he's angry and why not, “Matt always showers before he gets into bed with me.”

The Punisher eyes him for a long moment before he sits back and nods.

He stays like that for a long time- not saying anything, just looking at Foggy like he's waiting for something.

His expression softens slowly, easing out of the Punisher’s unforgiving mask, but Foggy’s too focused on his racing heart to pay it much heed.

It’s still beating too fast when a thought hits him. “Wait,” he says, disbelief and certainty warring over the ridiculous epiphany he's just had. “You wanted me to argue with you, didn't you?”

Castle nods, unrepentant. “Figured a lawyer would do it best.”

“What the hell, man?” Foggy snaps. “I thought you were going to kill me!”

“Didn't I tell you earlier I wasn't here to kill you?”

“You could have lied!”

“I'm not a liar.”

“How was I supposed to know that?” Biting back the torrent of complaints just waiting to crash over Castle, Foggy pinches his nose. “You know what? It's late, you're a vigilante, and I know better than to argue with vigilantes. None of you ever listen.”

To his surprise, Castle’s mouth twitches into a smile. “It's not personal.”

“Really? Because it feels personal.”

Castle doesn't answer. He just lifts his mug to his lips and drains it. Then, after setting the mug delicately on a coaster, he gets to his feet. “This was useful. Thanks for the coffee, Nelson.”

“Happy to help,” Foggy says automatically, internally wincing the moment he does.

Castle lets out something like a laugh. “I'm sure.”

Then he's heading to the window, and before Foggy can even process that an adult man is about to climb out his window despite having used the stairs to come in, Castle swings himself out.

He does shut the window behind him, though, which is thoughtful.

Foggy considers going over and opening it, just in case that would air out the apartment before Matt gets home. There's no point, though. Matt would just hear Foggy’s heartbeat and know something happened. Foggy may as well let him show off by identifying Castle by smell alone.

 

**_xx_ **

 

“-ggy. Foggy!” Matt hisses, shaking him awake. “Foggy, why was Frank Castle in your apartment?”

“What time is it?” Foggy asks, blinking sleepily and trying to make Matt out in the dark. Upside of dating a blind guy: he doesn't turn the lights on when he gets home. Downside of dating a blind guy: it's tough to find him when the lights aren't on. 

“About four in the morning.”

Giving up on finding Matt- he's being dramatic, and there's no reasoning with him when he's like this- Foggy sighs. It feels like four o'clock, and he'd really like to go back to sleep. “He walked me home.”

“Why would he do that? And why did walking you home involve being in the apartment?”

“I got to first base with him,” Foggy says flatly. “And he was so good at kissing, I brought him up for more. He's actually hiding in the closet as we speak.”

_ “Foggy.” _

Relenting- Matt sounds genuinely worked up- Foggy explains, “He needed some guy talk.”

The silence that greets him is disbelieving.

“What? He's still a guy, Matt. A guy with a frightening rap sheet and an unfortunate worldview, but, you know. Still a guy.”

Matt stays quiet for a beat before he says, “I don't like it.”

“Nobody liked it.”

“Do you think he’ll come back?”

“Knowing our luck, probably.”

“If I got you a taser-”

“I am not  _ tasing  _ the Punisher. Do you want him to kill me?”

This time, Matt’s silence is decidedly sulky.

“I'll talk to Karen tomorrow, okay?” Foggy offers. “If you're that bothered, I'm sure I can get her to convince him to leave me alone.”

“No,” Matt says slowly. “You don't need to do that. I was just thrown, you know? Finding out he's back in town because I smelled him in your apartment wasn't fun, Foggy.”

Foggy, happily, can't relate, but he does feel a pang of sympathy. “Sorry.”

“Why don't I believe you?”

“Nothing we can do about him now,” Foggy says with a yawn, electing not to go down that rabbit hole. “You staying over or just checking in?”

“Just checking in,” Matt says. “Sorry I woke you.”

“Not as sorry as you'll be tomorrow,” Foggy tells him cheerfully.

Matt doesn't reply, but he does finally get close and press a soft kiss to Foggy’s forehead. Then he's heading back out, the only sound his soft footfalls. He doesn't say anything, not even goodbye, but Foggy is confident he’ll find himself drinking a cup of his favorite expensive coffee tomorrow.

**Author's Note:**

> when is this set? who knows!


End file.
